~Chapter Nineteen~
She is beauty undefined
She would search through space and time for me
And like a mother with an infant child,
So protective, standing tall and watching
~Savage Garden, She~
I think I'm falling in love with Damon Salvatore.
It's such a bizarre concept, but it's one I'm getting used to as time goes on. We've been in an exclusive relationship for a few months now and it's become apparent to everyone in Mystic Falls that something is up. I can no longer hide beneath large shirts and baggy sweatpants. I've become a sideshow attraction. If I thought the stares a month ago were bad; then I had been sorely mistaken.
The whispers have become louder and I no longer have to guess what is being said about me—people are practically shouting at me as I pass them. I have neither confirmed nor denied the rumors about me, but the ups and downs of my relationship with Damon make for a juicy story—add to that an unplanned pregnancy in our final year in high school and that's all anyone can talk about. Even the teachers seem to be getting some mileage out of all the gossip. Well, most of them. Mr. Saltzman reminded his co-workers how juvenile they sounded when he realized I overheard two of my AP teachers talking about what a shame my life has become.
I try to push my negative thoughts away as I help Damon on his job search.We are in his bedroom, taking advantage of the fact that our parents are all at work this weekend. Mr. Salvatore usually has Saturday and Sunday off .I'm sitting cross-legged on the bed, combing the help wanted ads in the Mystic Gazette while he browses the internet. So far, his efforts have been… a mixed bag of results. "What about a job at the University?"
Damon spins around in his chair. "I have a better idea."
"Of course you do." I put the newspaper and red marker down. "What is it?"
"I'm going to enlist in the military."
My Uncle Marshall is in the military. He's worked his way through the ranks quickly, and I know he takes his job very seriously. But he's the complete opposite of Damon. I try to imagine him responding to the structure and authority. I can see him enjoying being in a position of control, but him working his way there? Not so much.
"Are you… sure? You and authority…" I struggle to find a gentle way to put it. "You don't really follow directions well."
"I do everything well."
"Okay… if this is what you want, then go for it. I'll support you."
He nods. "It is."
I can tell he is serious. There isn't that usual glint of mischief in his eyes. No smirk or devilish grin to be seen. I remember hearing him mention it before, but I had just thought he was throwing it out there just because. I briefly wonder why he has chosen to go this route. It seems so out of character. I don't pressure him to explain further, though. I've realized that it is much easier to wait for him to open up on his own.
"Alright, then. You know you can't just hop a flight to a military base and ask to join, right?"
He rolls his eyes at me. "You don't say? Well, that changes everything. Except I did my research. I am fully aware of everything I need to do."
I feel bad. I hadn't meant to sound so sarcastic. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you had everything all figured out."
"I'm a man of many talents, Bon Bon. How quickly you forget."
"I haven't forgotten—you remind me every five minutes." I say. "And I'm proud of you. I really am."
I lean back and rest my head on his pillows. I'm glad Damon has a plan, but he will be away a great amount of time. How will I juggle all of this by myself?
"Why the long face?" Damon joins me on his bed. "You're all pouty."
I sigh. "I'm not pouty."
"I'm pretty sure a frown indicates sadness… unless I missed something in Kindergarten."
"I'm happy that you have a plan now, but I don't know if I can do everything alone. You're going to be away for a bit—periodically."
He contemplates this for what seems like an eternity. "Okay, so maybe I didn't completely think everything through."
"I mean, I'm not telling you not to do it, but if you do I'm going to need a lot of help. Obviously your dad isn't an option… my mom said she'd help but I don't know about my dad— he's still… well, acting not as bad as usual—"
"Why don't we table this for now?" Damon suggests, pressing a finger to my lips. "How about we sit down with your parents and work out a better plan?"
"My dad hates you." I respond flatly.
His expression is over-confident. "I'll win him over—I won you over, didn't I?"
"You did," I admit uncertainly. "But my father is another story. You got his teenage daughter pregnant."
"You make it sound like a bad thing," he laughs, though that stops abruptly when he sees the look on my face. "Bonnie, I solemnly swear that I really am taking this seriously. I'm trying to come up with something that will prove to you that I'm going to do the best I possibly can."
"… I know, I guess I'm just nervous. I haven't gotten any news about college yet. And… you're probably right, we should talk to my mom and dad. I just don't want to." I cover my eyes with my hands.
"Bon, you're rambling again."
I peek at him through a space in my fingers. "It's just a lot, Damon. I'm… never mind."
"Come on, Bon Bon. Use your big girl words."
I glare at him and take a deep breath. I hate having to voice these particular feelings, though this emotion has been eating away at me even when it isn't front and center. "I'm scared."
"The Great Bonnie Bennett is afraid?" He lays down next to me, bringing me into his arms.
"You're not?"
"Eh. Maybe a little. But like I said, I didn't really have any idea what I was going to do after high school. Now I kind of do. It's… weird. I feel weird."
"This is really weird," I agree, removing my hands from my face. "But not the bad kind of weird I thought it was going to be. I don't understand how you're not scared shitless, though. How do you manage that?"
"I was angry at first," Damon says. "I was mad that I was going to have to give up having fun because the head of the Responsibility Police was going to make me man up—and then you made me think otherwise."
"I didn't know I had that much power over you."
"I didn't know either," says Damon.
And then we are lying nose to nose. Our silence hangs in the air. It's not tense or uncomfortable—it just feels good. Calming. I snuggle closer to him. He responds by wrapping both of his arms around me. I try to be more like him, more laidback and less stressed. Somehow, it's easier to calm down when I'm with Damon. Sure, it only lasts for a little while, but it's nice to get a break from myself.
"Can I kiss you?" Damon asks quietly.
I tilt my head up. "Wow, you're being gentlemanly. I'm impressed."
"I guess you're a good influence."
"You can kiss me," I say softly.
So he does. And it's nice, sweet, in a way I wasn't expecting. It's akin to the pecks on the cheek he would give me at school. I'm overwhelmed by the feeling of wanting more. I press my lips against his harder, my fingers tangling in his hair. I hook my leg around his waist. When we break apart, he is grinning like a cat who ate the canary.
"I must be a very bad influence on you, Bennett."
"Things aren't all good or bad, Salvatore, you taught me that."
"I sound very wise," he says loftily.
"For once," I snort. "Now, why are your clothes still on?"
"Pinch me. Is Bonnie Bennett propositioning me?" He feigns shock.
I make a move to stand up. "If you don't want to, that's fine, too."
"I didn't say that," Damon protests. "I'd be more than happy to be naked in front of you. I'm just surprised that you brought it up."
I back up and begin pulling my arm out of the sleeve of my shirt. I'm absolutely giddy. I can't get out of my clothes fast enough. I don't know what has come over me, my life is changing so much that I can barely keep up. I feel Damon's eyes on me as I'm undressing. Already, this is so much different than before. And when I turn around and look at him, he meets my eyes and then the anxiety hits. What if this is a bad idea? I certainly don't look the same as I did months ago… and then I actually look at his facial expression. He doesn't look repulsed or even cocky. He appears…mesmerized. That takes some of the nerves away.
He takes his own shirt off and I find myself staring at him in a very similar way. It occurs to me that I don't know what I should do next. The last time I found myself in this situation my inhibitions had basically flown out the window. Thankfully, Damon makes the first move. He closes the space between us and I happily let him take the lead.
I'm surprised at how comfortable I feel in this moment. But before I surrender myself to Damon completely, I wonder how long I will be able to keep all my worries at bay.
I toy with a loose thread on one of the blankets Grams had knitted before she passed away. It had actually been one of the few projects she had completed. The only other one had been a scarf she made for me one Christmas. My mother placed it on our couch right after she cleaned out her house. If I close my eyes and take a deep breath, I can almost smell the bergamot scent that used to overtake her home.
When I open my eyes, Damon is staring at me strangely. "Are you okay?"
"Just thinking about Grams," I explain. "You know, she was really good at the tough-yet-unconditional love thing—unlike my dad."
"Did your dad even like your grandmother?"
"He thought she was batty, but he loved her. They didn't have the stereotypical in-law relationship, if that's what you're asking."
He nods and leans against the back of the sofa. We are waiting for my parents to join us in the living room. When I had asked my mom if the four of us could have a formal discussion about the matter, she gladly agreed. I think she was just relieved that Damon and I were making headway on this whole "adulting" thing. My dad's response had been more of a begrudging affirmative, but that's still more than we can say for Damon's only parental figure.
Mom enters the room first, followed by my father, who has his arms crossed over his chest. I believe he's trying to intimidate Damon. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him sit up ramrod straight. Upon closer inspection, though, he doesn't appear frightened. Damon really is unflappable. I don't know how well this will bode for our talk, but at least one of us isn't drowning in a sea of uncertainty and shame.
"What is it you want to discuss, Bonnie Shelia?" I don't know how he manages to make my first and middle name sound like swear words, but he does.
"Our plan," I say. I grab Damon's hand. I hope it solidifies the fact that we are a united front.
Dad's eyes flicker to our intertwined fingers and then back up to me. "Oh, so you've finally come up with something? It's only six months in."
"Rudy!" My mother says sharply. "You promised me you would hear them out!"
My father's expression softens at Mom's interjection.
I use his moment of silence to continue talking. "I figured out what to do about college. Penn State has an online digital media and journalism program— I already sent in my application and applied for grants and everything."
Damon had been correct in saying that computers and calculators were lifesavers. I spent the last few nights at my laptop, getting all my ducks in a row, preparing for this meeting like my life depended on it. I've been waking up at my desk with a stiff neck and a pen still in my hand.
"And his plan?"
"I want to go into the Army," Damon says, looking straight at my dad.
"That's a lot of work, kid." I've never heard Dad sound so condescending. "Are you sure you can handle that?"
"Yes."
"And you just want to leave my daughter here to do everything by herself?"
"No," Damon replies evenly. "I don't. I do want to make something of myself, though. And this is how I want to do it. I plan on taking my responsibilities seriously, sir."
I jump in before Dad has a chance to answer. "We're asking you guys for help. If you're still willing to, that is." The last part is directed at my mom.
It feels odd to be asking—no, begging—for my parents help. I haven't needed to ask them for much of anything. And now, the one time I'm in desperate need of it; it feels like I'm requesting something impossible.
Mom appears torn. She turns to my father and then to Damon and I. "What kind of help are you looking for, Bonnie Bear?"
"Watching her when I need to do schoolwork… a place to stay…"
"Well, of course you're staying here, honey." My mom says as if I suggested going out and murdering someone for their house.
Dad sighs. It's the sound of someone who is frustrated, at the end of their rope. I feel guilty. I'm putting them in a very tough spot. "I don't think she's talking about herself, Abby."
"Well… not really." I don't break eye contact with my mother. It's much easier to address her. "I mean, Damon's father kicked him out. He has until the end of the school year."
Another disgruntled noise from Dad. I can almost see the conflicting feelings jump around his brain. Rumor around town, even before all of the turbulence, was that Giuseppe Salvatore made Damon sleep in the basement and fed him through a crack in the door. Now, this is obviously a bit dramatic, but my parents look as if I've confirmed everything they have heard through the grapevine.
Once again, I feel like a small child. Asking for much more than they're able to give.
"I've got money," Damon says. "I'm going to look for some place to stay when I'm home."
"Well, then why would you even ask for permission to stay here?"
"I didn't think Dad wanted me around," I answer. I'm shocked at how steady my voice sounds. "He can barely look at me. I don't think it will get any better when there is a screaming baby around."
"I'm not doing a happy dance, Bonnie. You should look into adoption—if you two can't act like grown ups, then you're up shit's creek without a paddle. And I really don't want to see your dreams go down the toilet. Neither would your grandmother. You need to be realistic. Did you even hear your mother when she brought it up?"
"Yes." Granted, I didn't think too long or hard about it, but he doesn't need to know that. "I don't want to do that—I can't."
"Life is full of things we don't want, Bonnie."
"Dad… please? I know I can do this. Let me show you. Give me a chance to prove you wrong."
"I hope so, because after this there are no more second chances." When he stands up to go, there's a note of finality in the air.
Mom looks at me sympathetically. "It's just going to take time, honey. And of course I'll help you, but you'll have to schedule everything around my work hours. You know they aren't flexible. And Damon, my brother is in the Army— I'll give you his contact info. He can give you advice."
"Thank you,"
We are alone once again. I realize I haven't let go of Damon's hand yet.
"We can do this," I state confidently. I don't see any doubt on his face. I love being right, but I've never felt so desperate to be in my entire life.
I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. It was a bit difficult for me to write for several reasons—both personally and creatively, and I hope everyone remained in character while I tried to convey everything I wanted. I'm also taking a few artistic liberties with Bonnie's familial background, partially to fit the story and partially because I stopped watching the show way before they brought Bonnie's family into it because I was frustrated with how they were dealing with Bonnie's character—she's my absolute favorite character and I was mad that she wasn't being showcased the way I feel she should have been.
Thank you for reading!
